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“I already sold it.”
Her jaw hangs open ever so slightly. A few seconds pass before she’s able to form words. “Y–you what?”
“Sold it. I sold your apartment two days after we brought you home.”
“You sold it?”
Christ, am I not speaking English? “Yeah, Baby.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Mac and Finn sit on the opposite side of the island, cups of coffee in hand, ready and waiting for the ass-reaming I’m about to receive.
Assholes.
“What did you do with all my things? My clothes, my plants, my furniture, all of my books?”
“Everything got put into storage in a unit downstairs. I got a unit with a window, so your plants would be okay. Once you were feeling better I was going to take you down there so we could go through everything and move whatever you wanted up here. We can sell whatever you don’t want to keep.”
She pauses a beat, digesting what I just told her. The longer she stands there, the redder her face gets. It’s only a matter of time before—“YOU SOLD MY APARTMENT WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST?!”
Pushing my hip off the counter so I can stand up straight, I look down at her and answer, very matter-of-factly, “Yes, Harper. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it, and you’re definitely not leaving. So I sold it.”
“I–you–wha—What did you do with the money you got from it?”
“It’s already in your bank account. Got above asking, and it’s already closed, in case you were wondering.” Ralph’s actually the one who owns it now. The apartment building he lived in was scheduled to be torn down. Not that he was necessarily upset about it. It was an absolute shithole anyway, but he was about to have nowhere to live. So, I bought Harper’s apartment and told him he could have it. No strings attached. He’s a good man who works hard and has served our country. He doesn’t deserve to wonder where he’s going to sleep at night.
“How is that even possible?”
I’m already in trouble. There’s no point in lying.
“I’m the one that bought it. Ralph is going to live there.”
“W-wha—I-I,” Harper takes a deep breath as she starts to massage her temples. I have to use every ounce of strength not to let a smile slip. Meanwhile, the two dipshits across the counter are giggling like a couple of school girls. “How do you have my bank account information?”
Now I smile. “I know everything about you, Baby.”
She takes another exaggerated breath. “Ronan, you can’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask, pretending to be oblivious.
“You can’t put my apartment up for sale, then buy it, then put the money in my bank account, which you shouldn’t even have the information of.”
“But I can.”
“No, you—”
I step forward and wrap my arms around her. Keeping my voice soft, I ask, “Do you want to stay here?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not—”
“Would you have sold your apartment?”
“Yes,” she answers begrudgingly.
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because I don’t want you to have to do that for me, Ronan.”
“First of all,” I reach up to cup her face, relaxed that her immediate instinct is to lean into my touch, regardless of her being mad at me. “I have more money than I even know what to do with. It wasn’t a big deal.” She rolls her eyes at my arrogance, but it’s true. The cost of her apartment was a drop in the bucket. “Second of all, I would do anything for you. Anything. Haven’t I proved that to you by now?”
